


A Death on the Nile

by toodlepip



Series: Infinite Woosters on Infinite Earths [5]
Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 16:52:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4674239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toodlepip/pseuds/toodlepip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bertie Wooster, that well-known crocodile of leisure, risks falling into matrimony. Once again, his only hope for rescue lies with his valet Jeeves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Death on the Nile

The day I met Jeeves, I was exhausted from a long supper, during which I had devoured my previous valet. Unintentionally, or at least mostly unintentionally, for the blighter had been none too hot on leech-spotting. I fondly recall the day Jeeves swooped into my life. He’s a stately sort of bird, severely dressed in crisp black, white and grey. His ready knowledge is enviable and his gossip network second to none. 

Today, he alighted on my nose and piped, “A visitor awaits you in the moat, sir” I looked at him squiggle-eyed (which is the only way to look at a nose-mounted valet, ask anybody). Then I peeked cautiously out of the mud. “Oh lor’, Jeeves!” I hissed. “It’s Aunt Agatha!”

As she swam, her tail was held ominously stiff. “She doesn’t look a happy snapper,” I added.

“Indeed, sir,” said Jeeves. 

“Can I escape?”

“I fear that Mrs Gregson has already detected your presence, sir. I, however...” and he spread his wings. 

Reluctantly, I slithered down the bank to join my relative, attempting with the utmost tact to stay out of the reach of her fearsome jaws. 

“Hello,” I said, “nice weather for the time of year, isn’t it?” and I smiled tentatively. 

The old reptile was clearly agitated about something, for she gave me the full force of her flat yellow eye. “Don’t blither, Bertie! And close your mouth. How do you expect to find a nice girl to take care of your hatchlings if you go about yawning like a common alligator?”

I shut it hurriedly. “Thowwy, Aunt Agafa,” I said through my teeth. 

“Bertie,” she said shortly, “You are an imbecile.”

“Yeth,” I agreed. She eyeballed me once again. 

“Shut up and listen. There’s a girl I’d like you to meet. A charming young thing. I have sounded her out. Although she is keenly aware of your shortcomings, she feels that, with sufficient application, something might be made of you.”

Half-a-dozen handbags, I thought, but had the sense not to say it.

“She will be visiting us on Wednesday. I expect you to attend.”

Well, what could I do? The will of an aunt cannot be countered with arguments about preexisting engagements. I had been intending to spend the day at the Drones Club, basking on the riverbank for the delight of the passing tourists, for we Woosters view bringing sunshine into the lives of others as a sacred duty, but it was clear that I would simply have to put it off. 

“Yeff, Aunt Agafa,” I said. 

Once her scaly posterior had disappeared, I called for Jeeves and explained the situation. “Something must be done!” I said. 

“Indeed, Sir,” said Jeeves. “I believe I have identified the young lady in question, and I do not think she would be to your taste. Whilst a statuesque figure – fully three metres long – Honoria Glossop would be unlikely to approve of your daily routine. And her father, Sir Roderick Glossop, would be unlikely to appreciate your free-spirited will. He is a medical man and a nerve specialist.”

I shuddered. “But how are we to get rid of this blighted beazel?” 

Jeeves looked thoughtful, his little head cocked to one side and beady eyes glistening with intelligence. “Perhaps - “

“Go on,” I urged.

“I scarcely dare to suggest it, sir, but it occurs to me that Mrs Gregson’s invitation could be stopped in the post, if- “

“Bribe the maid, you think?” 

“No, sir, for Elsie is an incorruptible and honest soul and, besides, a romantic who awaits the proposed nuptials with much interest. And the footman has, I know, bet ten pounds on the date of the wedding. Consequentially, neither would lightly break their word.”

“Then it’s lost,” I said gloomily.

He cleared his throat with a little _krr-krr-krr_. “It had seemed to me, sir, that perhaps you might -”

“Out with it!” I said.

“- devour the postman.” 

“Radical,” I said, “and I find humans distastefully crunchy, but if it’s the only way...”

“Precisely, sir,” he said. 

And so it was that the following morning I found myself lying behind a scratchy bush by the Glossop’s riverbank abode, waiting for the measured tread of the postman. He arrived bang on time: six-thirty AM. I scuttled forward to sink my teeth into him, but in planning the event, I realised to my dismay, I had failed to take into account the early-morning chill. My reptilian blood was cold and my limbs slow to react, and the upshot of it was that I missed the man’s leg by a hair’s breadth and my jaws closed on nothing but his boot. He struggled away, leaving his boot behind. 

I swore. True, the invitation had been delayed, but it was still in the postman’s possession and he would be more vigilant hereafter. No force on earth could stop Honoria’s visit now. Moodily, I chewed up the boot and then retired home, there to eat passing rats and think on my fate.

Jeeves was sympathetic, but not volubly so. “Don’t worry,” I said. “Not every plan can work out. And it’s not your fault...”

Just minutes later, there was a commotion by the moat. “Aunt Agatha!” I yelped. Jeeves took off and hid in a tree.

“Ah, Bertie,” she said briskly. “You need not attend the brunch on the morrow.”

“No?” I said, trying to sound disappointed. 

“No,” she said. “I’m afraid that the Glossops were picked up this morning by the authorities, for placement in a secure zoological environment. Apparently, one of the family bit the postman. I was mistaken in Honoria, Bertie. Not at all the kind of girl with whom one would wish to spawn.”

I sighed sympathetically. “And Sir Glossop a loony-doctor, too.”

“Yes,” said the aunt, looking as though she had bitten an electric eel. And she departed.

When Jeeves returned I squinted at him. “Jeeves,” I said, “You never intended that I should devour the postman, did you?”

“No,” he admitted. “I feared that you might feel pangs of conscience afterwards, sir. And nylon clothing is known to be bad for the digestion. But one crocodile looks much like another to the eye of _homo sapiens_. Consequentially, I had anticipated much this outcome.”

“Jeeves, you are a genius.” I opened my mouth wide and let him hop in, adding “Is there any rat stuck in my teeth?”

“Indeed, sir. There is a large chunk of flesh between your teeth, and several coils of tail hanging over the side of your jaw.”

Overcome with generosity, I said “Jeeves, take it all. You have deserved this and more.”

I wallowed peacefully on the bank, my plover perching on my scaly head, and watched the tourist boats go by. This is the life, I thought – and it was. In Jeeves' care, I reflected, I was as content as a crocodile can be in this century of alarms and incursions.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt: 'Jeeves and Bertie as animals. Just in general, but extra points for very unlikely cross-species friendships like Gohan and Aochan'


End file.
